


Smoke & Mirrors

by mneiai



Series: mneiai's Spooky Week [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Coma, Dark, Don't Like Don't Read, Dubious Consent, Gaslighting, Implied Non-Consensual Touching, M/M, Major Character Injury, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Mind Manipulation, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: After an accident, Obi-Wan's connection to the Force is muffled and his participation in the war changes completely.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Sheev Palpatine, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Sheev Palpatine
Series: mneiai's Spooky Week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985102
Comments: 19
Kudos: 167
Collections: Spooky Wars Week





	Smoke & Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 2 of the Spooky Wars challenge "Nightmares & Dreamscapes"
> 
> Special thanks to [Emrys_Fae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emrys_Fae/pseuds/Emrys_Fae) for looking this over for me when I was worried it wouldn't work lol
> 
> For more Odious content, more Spooky Wars stuff from me and the other participants, and as much Alpha-17 content as is actually possible most of the time, check out [my fic discord server](https://discord.gg/W3BUsdT).

Obi-Wan didn’t think, he just moved. Exhausted, in body, mind, and the Force, it was all he could do to get his troops out of the way before the explosion reached them.

He could do little to protect himself.

***

“General!” Alpha-17’s worried voice forced Obi-Wan back to consciousness. 

A medic was squatting beside him and Obi-Wan could tell from the way the pain was dulled that he’d already been giving him hypos. The whole world seemed a little fuzzy, especially the Force.

“We’re getting you back to the ship, sir, don’t worry.”

Yes, there was a transport just off to the side--how had that managed to land intact? The whole battlefield seemed less hectic than it had before he got knocked out, making him wonder if reinforcements had arrived early.

He didn’t protest being lifted onto a gurney and rolled to the ship, surrounded by troopers he knew only had good intentions for him. Fading in and out the whole way, he could only let out a soft groan as they started to prep him for a dip in a bacta tank.

***

When he woke up next, he was still in medbay. From everything connected to him, he established that the dullness, the continued fuzziness, was from more of the drugs. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so calm and just...nice. Comfortable, relaxed, as though he didn’t have a worry in the world. Without even the oppressive weight of pain and fear from the Force that followed around all of the GAR.

***

“We’re transferring you back to Coruscant, sir. Your scans still aren’t at the level of normal we’d like.”

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan insisted, even though they all knew it was a lie.

It wasn’t his _body_ that was the problem, it was his _mind_. He was losing chunks of time, whole days seeming to pass without him noticing, conversations with his troopers completely forgotten when they referenced them again.

Worse even than that, it was his connection to the Force. He could still levitate things, could still make barriers or mess with electronics. One of his troopers even let him mindtrick her, to prove that he could still do that. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t feel another’s emotions, or even just their presence, like he should be able to. Everything was blurry, still. It hadn’t been the drugs, at all.

“General,” Alpha-17’s gruff tone was as reproachful as ever and it was all Obi-Wan could do not to cringe.

He sighed, instead, sinking deeper into the pillows. “Fine, fine, I understand. I just...wish I could be here to keep you all safe.”

***

He hadn’t exactly expected a large welcome party, but that Anakin (and the Chancellor he seemed to have dragged along) were the only ones there to greet him was...well, he wouldn’t let it upset him.

Certainly, getting to talk to Anakin about something other than the war was a welcome relief and the Chancellor himself, who Obi-Wan had mostly avoided over the years up until recently, when the man seemed to suddenly realize his existence, was surprisingly insightful. If anything, they might have monopolized the conversation away from Anakin, when they realized their mutual love of pre-Ruusan surrealism. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t realize how welcome the distraction was until he got back to his hollow room in the Temple, the muffled Force around him more like a mockery of what he’d been than the comfort he’d once known.

Unable to sense the life from his plants, the impressions on his favorite throw, even the slight present of his river rock, the entire place felt foreign to him.

He had never looked forward to working with the Healers so much.

***

Days, weeks, months went by and he was no closer to finding out _why_ his access to the Force had diminished so greatly. Nothing he did was working.

He knew behind his back there were many who were suggesting he “retire” from the Order. Their stares ate away at his resolve whenever he ventured out into the Temple and he stayed, instead, mostly in his rooms or visiting others.

Trapped on Coruscant just as much as he was, the Chancellor extended multiple invitations to Obi-Wan for tea and more discussions. Eventually, with little else to do while his friends were off actually being productive in the war effort, Obi-Wan accepted.

They became the only bright point of his life, besides the holocalls with Anakin he could manage between campaigns. Even his troopers barely contacted him, probably inundated with work while Obi-Wan was on “sick leave” and not allowed access to his GAR accounts.

***

Bringing up the fact that he could still be productive _without_ the Force did little to convince the Council to let him go back to working on the war effort. 

Despite that he could fight without the Force, even with a lightsaber (certainly he had more experience being Force suppressed than most Jedi), he was not allowed to assist with fighting instruction, even for classes with no lightsabers involved. Even though his mind was as sharp as ever, if lacking some of the precognition that the Force could grant, he was not assigned to teach any classes.

He thought he’d die of boredom, after surviving what had apparently been such a serious brain injury.

Until the Chancellor intervened.

Palpatine never brought up their increasing acquaintance, but he did point out the fact that the Council was not taking full advantage of Obi-Wan’s (remaining) skills.

The reminder of his experience during Melida/Daan, of his obsession to study warfare and battlefield tactics afterwards, made him uncomfortable. The Chancellor had already known much of it, though, and didn’t reveal anything extraneous that they’d spoken of.

He was just trying to help.

And he did--the Council not only agreed that Obi-Wan was being underutilized, they decided that the best way to use his skills was to give him a promotion.

“Unusual, it is, for one less attuned to the Force to be appointed. Peacekeepers the Jedi are. Experience in warfare few have.” Yoda looked uneasy, eyes set somewhere over Obi-Wan’s shoulder (he hadn’t looked at him, Obi-Wan realized, since he’d come back, as though he were some phantom in the room).

Mace sighed, resting his chin on his hand, and gesturing to one of the still-empty Council seats next to him. “Despite your inability to perform certain tasks often deemed necessary, given current events and your own knowledge, we are in agreement that a temporary position on the Council would be to everyone’s benefit.” He narrowed his eyes. “You will not reassume your rank as General, however, the Healers are still insistent that you be kept away from the fighting. You _will_ be given the title of military consultant and a similar access to information as a High General.”

Gritting his teeth, making sure his shields--one of the few things he could still manage--were still locked down, Obi-Wan acquiesced. It was better than sitting in his apartment staring into a cooling mug of tea.

***

It was not, in fact, better. 

Being a temporary, reluctantly appointed Councilor had to be one of the most awkward and frustrating experiences of Obi-Wan’s life, and he’d been Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan.

Every suggestion he made was second-guessed, nearly every comment that he couldn’t back up with enough research and references to satisfy was dismissed. Even the members of the Council he’d always thought respected him as a person, and had no issues with those who weren’t Force sensitive, were suddenly acting as though he was their inferior.

The worst part was he knew that it was true--he _wasn’t_ as good as he had been--but not for _this_. Warfare had little to do with the Force, if anything now that he couldn’t directly feel the emotions and death that resulted from battle he thought he could look strategize without as many distractions.

Not that he couldn’t feel the Darkness around them growing ever stronger, the one thing he wished was muffled along with the Force.

***

His only comfort became his meetings with the Chancellor. They were a regular occurrence and, eventually, Obi-Wan became comfortable enough to take Sheev up on his offer to simply...drop by, as Anakin might.

The staff were all familiar with Obi-Wan and had no issue with him hanging around their offices, sitting on one of the guest chairs and working from his own datapad as Sheev finished up some meeting or other. 

Obi-Wan never thought he’d be more comfortable at the Senate than the Temple.

***

When the attack came, there was a great deal of warning, in retrospect.

Meetings he’d been shuffled out of or that never appeared on his schedule that he _knew_ happened. Increased dissatisfaction with the Senate, with the Chancellor, to the point the Council was actively going against some of the requests, despite how reasonable they were.

Obi-Wan himself had to argue for many of the suggested battlefronts and strategies that came from the Chancellor’s office. When they were finally approved and sent out to the generals, it was almost always with changes that increased the loss of life but would make the Jedi look better in the Council’s minds.

That they thought they could run the war better without the Chancellor’s office was certain, that they’d _act_ on that...Obi-Wan couldn’t even wrap his mind around it.

Without the Force, there wasn’t anything he could do but try to talk them down, even his attempts felt useless from the beginning. It was as though the situation was already set, as though he were simply going through the motions of a scene that had already happened somehow.

Anakin, at least, had been present, and while he was a little too reckless most of the time, he was powerful enough that Obi-Wan was relieved to have him there. He knew Anakin would do his best to protect Sheev.

Not that either of them could do much.

It wasn’t the first time words had failed the Negotiator, but he never thought a situation had escalated so quickly despite everything. 

He wondered what it would have been like, if he’d had the Force. If he could have known beforehand what they were doing (if they would have shared those plans with him).

When they finally struck, he was no match. As his head throbbed and his body gasped for air, he almost wished he’d died on that battlefield, almost two years before, if only for a more noble end.

***

Waking up on a soft bed in a luxurious looking room was the last thing he expected. He remembered the pain, the feeling of bones breaking as a piece of furniture slammed into him, something hitting his head, and then...nothing.

Raising a hand--weak, shaky, how long had he been out?--to his head, he found only light bandages. 

“Oh! Master Obi-Wan,” the unmistakable voice of a protocol droid drew Obi-Wan’s attention to the door.

With a shining red finish and a smooth articulation, Obi-Wan imagined the droid belonged to someone with a decent amount of money, which matched with the room he was in. From what he could tell, everything was real wood, and the blankets around him, now that he bothered paying attention, were very fine and possibly hand-woven. 

The droid brought a glass of water over, encouraging Obi-Wan to drink, and he had no reason not to. He had to hold it with both hands, taking careful sips.

“Where am I?”

“In your rooms, Master Obi-Wan. Don’t worry, I’ve alerted everyone that you are awake! It has been quite some time!”

He couldn’t manage to get another word in before the droid was hurrying off.

***

“The others” turned out to be private medical staff, all assigned to help him recover from the attack. He didn’t recognize a single one and none, he could easily tell, were Jedi.

When he asked about the Jedi, they closed off immediately, awkwardly explaining that they were told their employer would tell him everything, as soon as he could. He wasn’t allowed to see the news or be given any outside information, as they all feared he’d grow anxious and it would setback his recover...which only made him anxious in its own way.

Obi-Wan spent weeks on physical therapy and returning to solid foods. If it weren’t for how ridiculous it seemed, he would have said he’d been out for much longer than the month that the staff claimed. Especially as the last few years felt more like a dream than reality.

One entire month was already so long, he reminded himself. Especially considering the blurry memories of what had happened just before his coma.

The Council must have been stopped, somehow, did that mean the Chancellor was behind Obi-Wan’s current situation? Was Anakin alright? 

If he recovered, he could find out these things, and with little else to do, that’s what he worked towards.

***

Sheev came when Obi-Wan was ready to leave, looking so relieved that it was easy for Obi-Wan to let himself be swooped up into his arms, to rest in his embrace. They’d never touched like this, as far as he could remember (and his memories were a little blurry, two serious head traumas had knocked things around permanently, he feared), but it felt right.

“Please, Sheev, what happened? All I remember is...is the Council coming for you?”

“I’m so, so sorry I’ve kept you in the dark. It’s just...a lot of changes have been made, since your injury.”

And then it all came out--the failed coup, the revelation that it wasn’t _just_ the Council in on it. Infighting among the Jedi, those loyal to the Republic and those loyal to the Council had torn through the ranks.

A group had...a group had _killed the younglings_.

Obi-Wan was crying by the end of it, clutching onto Sheev, wondering how a few years of war had managed to destroy his entire people so easily.

“After the attempt on my life, the Senate realized the only way to protect against such actions and finally bring an end to the war--the war which the Council was artificially delaying in the hopes of discrediting me--was to make the special executive powers I’d been granted permanent.”

“Permanent? But, Sheev, your term had only even been extended because of the war, now that it’s over--”

Sheev shook his head, looking so sad that Obi-Wan’s heart ached for him. _He’d_ been betrayed, too, after all. And it was him the Jedi had come to murder.

“The galaxy is in turmoil, the Republic hasn’t even recovered from the war, and now the Jedi Order is not there to assist us.”

Rubbing his head, wishing he could just remember _more_ of the last few years, the details he was missing that would _explain_ everything, Obi-Wan couldn’t come up with a decent argument. He knew turning the Republic into an Empire was a horrible decision, but justifying his beliefs felt too exhausting. 

“And...what of my place? I was part of the Council.”

Sheev’s hand cupped his cheek, a gesture so intimate from the normally reserved man it made Obi-Wan’s breath catch. “I know you had nothing to do with it, Obi-Wan. Everyone knows of your innocence. And the attack seems to have been an unexpected boon.”

“What? How?”

“Your connection to the Force has been restored.” Obi-Wan froze, reaching out the old familiar path, and found...it wasn’t as it had been, not the blurry mess, but instead was like a solid wall. 

“Ah, these rooms dampen the effect, Anakin helped oversee that. When you were near waking your connection was...causing many issues. It was deemed safer to slowly reintroduce the Force over time.”

“Oh, yes, it...it’s been a long time without it,” he agreed, even though all he wanted to do was open himself up completely to it and just _feel_ the Force.

He’d almost forgotten Sheev’s hand on his cheek--it felt as though he’d been touched like that a hundred times before even though it was only the first--when suddenly his head was being tilted. Sheev’s lips brushed his own, feeling just as natural as everything else, and Obi-Wan’s eyes closed as he let himself savor the kiss.

It had been so long since he’d been kissed. All of his friends had abandoned him when the Force had and he’d had so little desire to create an outside life.

“Don’t worry, Obi-Wan,” Sheev whispered against his lips once he’d ended the kiss, “I have everything under control. It’s better this way, you’ll see.”


End file.
